by Shanon Chong
“I thought those runes were a little too old for you to understand,” he muttered as he stood and dusted himself off, “You’re very careful when you nullify someone else’s runes. You could have landed another hit on me with a mistranslated nullification attempt.” He continued to instruct me even during our battle.
“A runic explosion can cause serious damage,” I replied out of care for his health and safety. His grin already told me his next words. He had to somehow justify fighting a former student to the rest of the staff: he was spending some time giving me handy tips.
“And that’s why you use runes in combination with defensive magic,” he explained, looking to the students watching us. “A runic explosion is dangerous, as Theo said. That’s why I prepared another layer to my fake defence.” He turned to face me, a serious expression on his face. “I’ll finish the fight off now.”
Not giving me any opportunities to respond, he broke the sound barrier with a single step, appearing next to me. A finger poked me lightly on my forehead. “That is your loss.”
“Very nice of you to end this mercifully,” I muttered sarcastically. “What was that technique?” I walked with him to the group of students. They clapped and joked, celebrating my loss.
“That?” he said suddenly. “That’s a basic movement within martial arts. It’s a blink movement.” He stared at the class as he spoke. “Of course, you have to be military grade to perform a simple step like that.” He mocked us, knowing all of our individual strengths and weaknesses.
“Anyway, what did my father want you to give me?” I impatiently inquired. “I have to go soon,” I added with a sense of false urgency. However, I soon realised that the false sense of urgency would be very real when I returned home.
“Right, this.” He handed me a case made of wood sourced from around the village perimeter. “I think he wanted you to have this sooner rather than later.” He opened the case, revealing a moon-shaped sword. The slight curve in the edge of the blade had been sharpened beyond the limits of the metal, and its leather handle showed slight hints of the wood below it. Engravings covered the blade, completely unknown to me. I merely examined it, not removing the carefully forged blade from the wooden case.
After careful scrutiny, I made a guess at the writing inscribed carefully with the same chisel that had carved the sword’s basic shape. “Old Arcanan?”
“Indeed, even I’m not old enough to understand it!” he exclaimed sadly as he closed the lid and locked the case. “Its name has been engraved on the flat edge of the blade. If you want to open the case, you’ll have to be a tier-six mage.”
“Was it always in that condition? You haven’t played around with the lock, have you?” I joked as I received the box happily.
“It’s a side effect of the case. Thieves won’t be able to tell it apart from a normal instrument and they won’t bother taking it. It looks like a musical instrument’s case, anyway,” he added, defending his relatively weak argument.
“Anyway, I have to leave. Rachel won’t be too happy if I’m late,” I joked as I began to run to the school’s exit, the metal fence giving me an obvious way through.
“Are you coming back later?” Mr Defargo shouted.
I turned back to respond to his question. “I think Rachel will want to meet you, and I’ve got a meeting with Ms Merases later.”
“Well, see you in the afternoon… and you can call Piper by her first name in front of me. I’m not the kind to care.” He began to lead the students back to the room for the final few minutes of the midday lessons. Having barely hit twelve o’clock, I knew I would have to get back and actually start packing for the coach ride later in the afternoon.
Finally turning away from the school, I ran down the uneven and lumpy gravel path that led up to the school and down to the village market district. The view shifted as I spiralled down the hill, toward the shopping block, hoping the blacksmith and carpenter had finally completed my request. The large and exaggerated signs of the two adjacent stores I was headed to showed exactly why people avoided them. The competition for attention between them never ended. However, as I was one of the few clients who asked for products occasionally, neither store made any attempt to win my attention. The blacksmith and carpenter knew the situation of most people who lived nearby, and it was nearly certain that random civilians would be harassed.
“It’s little Chrono. We finished the item you requested!” the blacksmith, Xavier, shouted. His close friend and rival, Vincent, stood next to him as they proudly presented me with the item I had requested months earlier.
“You mean I waited while you finished your part?” Vincent laughed as he handed me the carrying case I had asked for. The exterior mimicked the other suitcase my house had; however, I had been sure to request extra features and storage capacity in my own personal luggage carrier.
“Don’t lie,” Xavier retorted. “You fretted over this day more than I did. I saw you staying up for several days to create the outer case.”
Ignoring their attention-seeking argument, I took the case and turned to leave.
“Hey, Theo, be sure to visit when you come back,” Vincent mentioned.
“I will. Thanks for the suitcase!” I replied happily, and then I skipped my way home to the neatly separated housing district the village had made to foster close and cozy relationships with neighbours and whatnot. The arch that indicated the separation between the commercial and residential areas had roses and vines growing over the nicely painted wooden arch, giving it an extra flair.
The houses were all unique to their owners, but my home seemed to be missing the style that others had created for their buildings. The blue exterior didn’t seem normal until you looked at the bigger picture: pink, yellow, and green were normal for a house within the village. The gabled, evenly split roof seemed strange within the sea of unevenly made roofs and walls. An ornate handle stuck out from the centre of the wooden door, which opened to reveal the cosy yet abnormal house I lived in.
A single corridor opened into the living room, and a set of stairs stood directly to the right of the door. A kitchen lay hidden behind the stairs, and the remainder of the first story rooms were directly below the spacious second story of the building. Taking my time on the stairs, I looked around: the four rooms of the second story were organised simply. My room was directly ahead, and around the handrail was the master bedroom, which had remained empty for ten years. A small library and the tiny study that my father had modified were squeezed in between the two bedrooms.
The study was particularly interesting; letters from my father materialised there every month, skimming over the happenings at his end of things. However, one of the many features in the room was a time dilation dial; having messed around with it enough, it was safe to say I was several years older than my date of birth implied. Despite this, I remained a genuine fifteen-year-old.
In the many letters my father had written and sent to the study, I had only read three, and one of those three had left me shell-shocked. During the summer of my tenth year, I’d read an engagement agreement. It was not between my father and a woman, whom I would have deemed an illegitimate wife to the man I called my father. No, the agreement was for me to be betrothed to his military superior’s sole daughter. Being an only child myself, I felt happy, not realising the significant implication at the time. I would gain a friend to play with. The little I knew about the agreement would lead us to enjoy our peaceful relationship of brief and strange chats.
Having met Rachel years before that letter, I already knew her, but at the time, neither of us knew of the engagement agreement between our parents. Eventually we got word of our relationship-to-be and learned to cope with one another… She wasn’t exactly the nicest girl I knew. However, I knew her best, and I wasn’t afraid to admit that. Not hating each other, we decided to go along with the inevitable.
Noticing the time on the decorative wall clock, pushing half past one, I started panicking. Rachel had schedule
d to come and take the coach with me to the Capital. Us exchanging letters occasionally had eventually led me to promise her that I would be finished packing by the time she had arrived. I soon realised the futility of my endeavour to fulfil the promise I had sworn by pen and paper weeks ago.
Having a desperate urge to bring a piece of home with me to the Royal Academy, the completely irrational idea stuck as I searched for a bite-sized representation of my home I could take with me. After searching the entire house, nothing satisfied the criteria I had set for the belonging I would bring with me. However, I realised that the sword I had been given was worth several times what the house was. In the end, I settled on a smaller item I cherished with my heart, the fountain pen my father had left behind as a gift to me.
After deciding that the sword and pen would accompany me on the journey, my dread caught up with me when I heard a quiet knocking at the door. Shoving half my closet into the new suitcase, I organised it in a bearable manner before noticing the second suitcase that remained empty, with little done to fix that. Realising the suspicions she would place upon me, I left a few small items inside the case to justify my actions.
“Theo!” Rachel shouted. Her voice prompted me to move quickly to let her in. “You ready?” She continued her loud demands for me to open the door, which led to me risking whatever doubt she may have had about my presence by bounding down the single flight of stairs. I unlocked the door quietly and slowly went back upstairs.
“I unlocked the door!” I shouted from the top of the stairs, returning to my room to pack several simple things I couldn’t live without, toiletries and similar items I required for a healthy life.
“You finished packing?” she asked after entering the building. “Damn, this place smells. You live with this?”
“Do you have any ideas for that problem?” I replied sarcastically, opening several windows on the second floor. “If it rains, everything is done,” I declared, dissatisfied with the job I had done to air out the house.
“You got any wooden planks the size of the window?” Rachel offered helpfully.
Rushing down the stairs, I saw her briefly before rushing to the storeroom and grabbing the several pieces of wood and metal I could find. Her auburn hair remained untied and loose, and her medium-sized face turned to look me in the eye. Her looks were stellar in comparison to the country girls I had seen for the past fifteen years of my life. Her blue eyes had a hint of scarlet as she evaluated the boards. Then she grabbed them and angled them against the window.
“Well, if it’s angled, the rain will just go back outside.”
I decided to implement her changes with the assistance of magic as I mounted the boards at a forty-five-degree angle against the open windows’ fly mesh.
“How long will you give me to finalise packing?” I asked, knowing how she liked things well planned and thought out. I had already returned to the second floor after finalising the windows, and I had plans to complete packing the other unfinished suitcase.
“Would fifteen minutes be enough?” she inquired considerately before looking at my condition. The frayed leather top must have already told her that I wasn’t exactly ready for the trip at hand. “Let’s go with thirty minutes.” She sat down on the chaise in the front room, holding a book covered in markings and cuts. However, I didn’t have the time to think about anything but packing and filling the bags with the toiletries I had already set aside. I noticed the name neatly printed on the bag as I closed the suitcase.
“Andreas Arcanas…” I muttered quietly, reading my father’s name aloud before disregarding it and printing my own name above it in a similarly prominent font. “Rachel, I’m finished,” I declared, grabbing the three cases and placing them at the top of the stairs.
“Need some help?” She rose from the couch, and the weathered red suitcases stared her down as she elevated herself, step by step, up the stairs. Of the many gifts my father had given me, the suitcase, fountain pen, and sword, there was one enigmatic detail he had omitted in some conversations with the same reason. Having already signed the bag with my name, Theodore Chrono, I remembered the conversation we’d had the day before he’d left.
When asked about our surname, he had replied casually, “My surname? It would probably give you more trouble than good!” He had laughed as he looked me in the eyes. “Well, maybe when you have the strength to bear our surname, you can assume it.” He ruffled my hair as he stood.
“Yeah, I could use some help,” I admitted, handing the suitcase down to her. The suitcase and the sword case easily weighed over half her body weight. However, Rachel carried the items with ease, placing them down at the bottom of the stairs.
“Done?”
Her question, seemingly rhetorical, gave me time to think. Looking up the stairs, I didn’t notice anything of particular interest. I soon remembered the two meetings within the school I had promised to my teachers, the only two friendly enough to actually talk to me.
“When do you want to leave?” I considered carefully before making my own plans and shutting the windows. “I’ve got to meet a few people at the school.”
“Latest coach leaves slightly past five. I’d rather we were on our way before then,” Rachel replied promptly. “What are you going to do with the food?” She took a few steps forward and peeked into the cooler room.
“I’ll, I’ll give it to the neighbours. Leaving before five seems fair enough to me.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Rachel remarked sarcastically. “I’ll bring your bags over to the coach service; they’ll place them in our carriage.”
“Sure, when do we meet?” I asked as I grabbed the large wooden cooler that contained all the food in the house. Carrying it down the long hallway, I placed it next to Rachel, who was looking at her pocket watch.
“Two thirty,” she mumbled, planning the trip mentally and evaluating the times it would take to go from place to place. “We can meet at the base of the hill at three and go from there.”
“Agreed.” I tossed a spare key at Rachel.
Catching it with style, she slipped the iron key into the breast pocket of the olive-green military style coat she wore. I placed my own key in my pant pocket, ensuring it was closed.
Rachel, who had left the moment I’d given her the key, had considerately left the door open. Rushing up the stairs, I opened the study door, locating runes that had been used for the time-dilation feature. Erasing them carefully, I closed the now awfully normal study.
Taking two steps outside my own house, I placed the heavy cooler on the ground, feeling the burning sensation in my shoulders that urged me to let myself rest for a moment. Knowing my limits, I turned and locked the door. Grabbing the food crate again, I took several more steps, making my way up my friendly neighbour’s porch.
“Mrs Melan, I’ve got a gift!” I shouted, knocking at the elderly neighbor’s door. It had seemingly been made for people of a different, smaller race. Mrs Melan opened the door slightly.
“If it isn’t Theo… How can I help you?”
Her elderly pace of speech didn’t bother me in the slightest as I placed the box before her. “I was going to offer you whatever leftover food we had in the cooler box,” I explained, slinging the box to the side of the door within her cosy house. “I’m leaving for external education.”
“I remember when Andreas left the town for the same academy.” Her frail voiced echoed within the limited expanse of her home.
“My father?” I probed, reluctant to pester her further.
“Of course. He went to go and further his magic,” she replied simply. She handed me a small coin. “Take it,” she urged.
Knowing that I wouldn’t feel good taking money from an elderly lady, I refused, shaking my head adamantly. “How old was he when he left?’ I asked, hoping to make comparisons between him and myself.
“Your age. How old could he have been?” she joked, looking at the clock on the wall inside her house. “My, my, you have to meet
someone by the hill at three, right?”
“Right, I completely forgot,” I remarked quickly before turning to leave.
“Thank you for the food!” she shouted as I left the residential area.
I felt a sense of unease as I realised what I had just ignored. Turning to look back at the house, the door was shut, and the windows were closed tightly.
“How did she know I was meeting Rachel?” I muttered to myself as I returned to the mountain path, bewildered. Rachel and I had been alone in the house, and we hadn’t been very loud… Mrs Melan was hard of hearing, right? Eventually I settled on a more realistic conclusion; however, many doubts still remained about how she had heard us. I couldn’t understand any reason for her reminding me, nor did I feel the need for her to tell me. I was losing my mind over it.
“Theo!” Rachel’s voice projected over the short expanse of stalls before the ramp to the school. “Five minutes late!” Realising the friendly neighbour I had just met had warned me of this outcome, I felt slightly annoyed at my lacklustre physical ability.
“Does it really matter?” I asked, wondering at Rachel’s overly precise thought process.
“Not really,” she said with a grin. “Let's go. I want to meet this Mr Defargo you told me about last year.”
“You remember that?” I said, dumbfounded. I had doubted it was something to which she would have placed especial value.
As I looked at her with a confounded look, she replied quickly to resolve my confusion. “Of course! You said he was strong. I was interested.”
Did she think I was daft? I remembered that conversation, too… Rachel and her unconventionally Rachel-y thought didn’t really surprise me anymore after talking with her for the past seven or eight years.
“You can meet with him while I say goodbye to Piper,” I said as I saw the castle-like structure appear on the horizon. The misty afternoon air obstructed the top half of the school, leaving only the stone foundations to be seen.
